


guessing game

by drifterlovemail



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, and it isnt written for me, i wanted to fit trans hcs in here but it didnt pan out, just know that in my minds eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drifterlovemail/pseuds/drifterlovemail
Summary: All of them will neglect to tell you how dearly they love him, for all of them feel they lack the way to express this accurately even in the quiet presence of one another or simply themselves./there's a lot to unpack after altissia. none of them quite know how to express their emotions, but they all take care of one another. also, noctis doesn't die.a commission!





	guessing game

Let’s experiment with conclusions.  
Fact one: There is a long list of things that will lead to Ardyn Izunia and Noctis Lucis Caelum trying to kill each other, and little of them will be beyond Noctis’ control.  
Fact two: While a considerably shorter list, a great deal of these things will not be Ardyn Izunia’s fault, either.  
A third and final fact: It is all going to happen anyway, and Ardyn Izunia will die.  
Conclusion: None of those details or sections of blame really matter, then, because that’s where we are.

“So hear me out — Altissia is a floating boat on the water. They have the - the rowers underneath, and - “  
“It’s a city, Prompto. It doesn’t move.” Noctis argues, and Prompto goes on.  
“It doesn’t make sense, dude. How do you even start building a city on the water?”  
Gladio reaches out his arms, tea spilling from the mug in his hand. Ignis doesn’t speak up, eyes barely rising above the lens of his glasses.  
“Tell me, Prompto. How does it stay in place then? Boats rock.” Gladio says.  
“Anchors, Gladdy. Anchors! They throw down anchors, and pull ‘em up when they gotta move.”  
Altissia, regardless of nautical state, is a sprawling city that Noctis can’t comprehend. Insomnia was large, with roads that sprawled down for miles, but without the rocking waves nearby. He can’t think of an Insomnia that has so much water. There are no waters to jump into in Insomnia, only straight stretches of desert and rock. Altissia lies in waves, and he saw no anchors to drag the wrecked pieces below. There was only stillness in that cyan sea, and he watched it go dark as the Hydraean washed that peace away.  
“Er — Noctis. You okay, buddy?”  
There are times Prompto’s joy makes Noctis wants to punch him in the face. When he says this, it turns into one of those times. Lucis is sprawling, and Noctis is never going to see every corner of it. He fears, now, that he will bring destruction to its wake anyway. But now is another time - it happens about ten times a day now, he swears - that he imagines Lunafreya floating down Altissia waters, lost to the sea. The pit in his stomach is a permanent thing.  
“I’m going to bed.” He says, and so quickly he pushes his plate back and retreats back into the camper.  
It feels odd to still have old palace habits. Like all the princely training shoved into his head will still remain if he lives a hundred years longer than his own kingdom. Gladio sighs as Prompto watches him walk away. Ignis takes Gladio’s hand in his, presses a kiss his knuckles before Gladio can reach for another fry. There is the rare occasion of painfully awkward silence between then before Ignis dares to speak.  
“We all knew his problems weren’t going to be fixed with fancy dinners and - what was it you’d mentioned, Prompto? Apple pickings?”  
A grin spreads across Prompto’s face, but it lacks most of its usual joy. “Yeah, dude. Get out into nature, and all.”  
“And I’m never gonna wrap my head around how you see Noctis ever strolling through an orchard, dude.” Gladio counters.

By the end of lunch Ignis comes upon an immediate conclusion, then. Rather than tell anyone this he curls in on himself within his chair, finishes a mimosa, and works. By the end of creating the whole plan he goes through a subsequent three more mimosas, leaving him relaxed but in tune with himself enough that he won’t rely on _Gladio and Prompto_ for plan finalizing. Thus, the plan does not include water parks beyond the two hour mark.  
He thinks of when Gladio left the three of them. Even Prompto had grown quieter, different jokes and less complaining as they set up camp when there was no one to combat it. Ignis is never going to learn Noctis’ exact feelings going through Altissia, and Noctis is never going to learn of what pains he took to keep him alive. Something in the back of his mind reminds him he wouldn’t be able to see the look in Noctis’ eyes even if he were to confess. These are the secrets they keep: various things to protect one another, various other things because they cannot speak to protect themselves. It chokes his throat like barbed wire, leaves him ill with the thought, and doesn’t matter.  
Ignis knows each of their footsteps well enough. Staying on the road with people keeps going blind around them all the easier.  
“Be quiet,” He speaks quietly as Prompto comes through the door. “He hasn’t slept in too long.” But he doesn’t need to tell Prompto that.  
Ignis’ hand strokes through Noctis’ hair, focusing on its softness and ignoring the time. He only moves his hand away when Noctis goes to swat at it in his sleep like a kitten, in which case Prompto’s hand takes it’s place.  
“So - uh,” Ignis could save Prompto from stumbling through what he’s about to say, but - “What’s the plan, dude? Me and Gladio were tossing around ideas while you stuck around yesterday. Figure we could find somewhere less hazardous and monster-covered, eat.”  
Gladio, Prompto, and Noctis all know one thing: When Ignis bites his lip, you aren’t getting the sort of parental _‘I’ll consider it’_ where they’ve already figured absolutely not, and want you to stay silent. He’s actually considering it. So in Ignis’ lip bite, Prompto takes a bit of pride. Ignis considers it because it truly isn’t a bad idea. Noctis’ favor for city life might be beaten out by how much he simply wants to be alone.  
“- That is a better plan.” Ignis says, hand stroking through Noctis’ hair all the while.  
Eventually, his other hand is occupied in Prompto’s.

If Ignis weren’t so far along in his cooking skill already, they would all be eating sticks. But he knows his cooking place and his ingredients, his utensils like a third limb. The others take turns standing beside him to make sure he doesn’t burn himself on the fire, and kiss him every time he succeeds. They do most times he fails, too.  
Gladio picks the spot. Though it’s not as if they truly needed to impose on Gladio to pick a place for them to camp. Not camping, three of the four of them remind themselves almost in entire sync. A picnic. Camping is a drag unless you wind up actually sleeping in a bed rather than a woodland floor. But for then he pulls Noctis in front of him and makes sure the fire is just as close in front of him. It does get cold, and Gladio isn’t going to be able to stand Noctis’ complaints ever being right.  
“We were perfectly fine at the hotel.” Noctis grunts. “We have the money. Don’t see the point in dragging ourselves out to the woods for fun. We do it enough.”  
“Mhm.” Gladio says, and doesn’t mention the upgraded hotel room waiting for them back in town.  
The lack of correction and talk about how camping is simply the best is what throws Noctis off. They all notice - Prompto turns directly to look at Gladio in stark dramatic fear, and Ignis stops moving his hand mid-vegetable cut. Noctis turns quick on his back and only barely dodges the fire already bursting as the realization dawns on him.  
“I don’t need you all to take me to some fucking woodland health retreat to prove I’m alright.” Noctis spits.  
He could spit out a thousand things. _Of course I’m not alright, stop trying to make me so. Leave._  
A thousand other things along the lines of telling them to leave him be so they don’t get dragged into this royal mess. Even in his darkest depths he would never try that far. The world they’re in cares very little of what they want, and even if the three would ever be so willing to leave, they would never be able to. Noctis knows he can scarcely imagine a world without them all at his side anymore. There was a long time he counted on reading Lunafreya’s letters, as well.  
“We weren’t tryin’, Noct. None of us expect you to be - “ Gladio starts.  
“Shut up.”  
Noctis curls up in himself, and suddenly Gladio comes close to understanding how Noctis had felt on the train. But if Noctis was done, they would have gone home.  
“Are any of you particularly alright? You telling me I’m the only one upset by seeing everything die? With Iggy needing us to watch him now? Fuck - I can’t remember the last time I so much as went for a _walk_ without Iggy or Luna watching for my every step, and now - “  
Noct stops right before his voice chokes out in an attempt to hide it. It doesn’t go very well, and they’re all aware that everyone else knows, and silence falls over the camp. The tension grows worse when Ignis has to return to cooking lest their meal burns up.  
Prompto reaches for Noct’s hand and simply holds it. At this late, he can feel Noctis’ shaking, close enough to see him blinking back. Vulnerability is a terrible, unavoidable thing, and the Chancellor and his friends aren’t going to compensate for it. But Prompto’s voice is a soft thing against the river tide close by.  
“I’m terrified of Iggy’s sight.What if we get stuck in some cave tunnel or something again, and something falls, and he can’t find his way back, or - “ Gladio hits Prompto directly in the side when Ignis’ hands start to twist against themselves. “Sorry. But I’m terrified of you too, Noct. What if you deal with some godlike shit like you did back in Altissia and we can’t help? I’m not a god, dude. I barely remember their names.”  
Noctis takes a breath and things fall silent again. It becomes rather fitting for the whole problem.  
“I can’t do anything about where I’m going.” Noctis says.  
_Neither can you_ hangs off of it, but he decides to spare them it. Because nothing in this is to say that he isn’t going to fight fate to some bitter and terrible end. Noctis pulls gently at Ignis’ hand from where he stands, hand moving up along his arm as he pulls him to his level.  
Ignis has always been comforting to kiss. He’s never skipped out on taking care of his skin, or his hair. Noctis brushes his hand against Ignis’ cheek as he kisses, so Ignis knows where he is and feels each thing.  
“He knows us. He’s always gonna know us.” Noctis whispers, though he still hasn’t moved far enough from Ignis that he couldn’t kiss him again. For only a second, he holds Ignis’ chin between his thumb and finger. “Me.”  
Prompto is the first to move after him. Noctis is pushed to the side by his friend so Prompto can awkwardly fumble his way into a position where he’s close to Ignis but not touching. Prompto lacks any sort of careful movement that Noctis employs, leaning to kiss Ignis so quick he nearly knocks off the man’s glasses. But it’s sincere and sweet and purely Prompto Argentum, and thus Ignis has little to complain for.  
“ - Prompto.” Ignis guesses, bewildered. His hands are twisting, his head still forward from when he leant after Prompto.  
Prompto is smiling stupid. “Yeah, dude.”  
Were the Astrals kind, Ignis and his own gracefulness would have been returned with something other than three entirely ungraceful men. But Gladio too is tentative, moving to Ignis’ side and pressing a kiss to his cheek instead. It’s not until Noct’s glare that he moves further, curving around to kiss Ignis proper. Ignis’ hand twitches all the same - reaching for him would defeat the point. Not that he’s ever been overly fond of games.  
“Gladio,” he says, and Gladio kisses him again. “Gladio.”  
Gladio pulls Ignis into his arms once again and takes his shaking hands within his own. None of them are ever going to admit to their own fragility, even as it’s laid out to one another before them. Ignis settles uncomfortably between Gladio’s legs, and reaches forward.  
“Noct, Prompto - “  
“They’ve gotten all caught up with one another, Iggy.”

-

If you ask Ignis Scientia a single thing about his King, he will tell you that the King has brought him here from the other side of hell and he is grateful. He’ll tell you that despite all the King’s impulsive nature he would give his life for him. Ignis Scientia will never tell you how many times he’s come close to doing exactly that, and that it’s why he isn’t looking you in the eye exactly right now.  
If you ask Gladio Amicitia he’ll tell you that the King is a royal pain in the ass, as well as some comment about the struggles of carrying a legacy on your shoulders. That is something they will always share, in some form.  
If you ask Prompto Argentum anything, he will tell you that King Noctis dragged him from a depth he wasn’t aware he was in, and is his dearest friend.  
All of them will neglect to tell you how dearly they love him, for all of them feel they lack the way to express this accurately even in the quiet presence of one another or simply themselves.

In a better world, Noctis prays. Not that he could afford any more divine intervention in his life - he’s had quite enough of it, thank you, for all the good it had done him. None of them brought him back to the throne as Regis would have wanted it. Regis Caelum, up until the moment he fell, had a distant dream of his son happy and secure on the Insomnia throne.  
Noctis was by no means a perfect son, mind you. Noctis himself will tell you this, because Regis never would have. Noctis will also have a tendency to exaggerate in this conversation, because he was not at his kindest in his final conversation with his father, and you’ll be able to tell he thinks of this every day. In another world, not necessarily a better one, he won the throne back easier. Ignis would not run his hands over Noctis’ face as he always has and bitterly think back on how he’d tried to keep those wounds from happening, how he tried to keep from ever sharing this similarity. Every time Noctis tells him it’s alright, he’s fine. Looks better this way, if anything. But none of that changes the people’s wariness that part of their King’s face is twisted something like a daemon.  
Noctis begins to have nightmares about the collapse of his kingdom and more often than not flees to his mirror to check his face for black goo. He’s pretty sure that’s not how it works, but his anxiety doesn’t really care for fact.

“You need to sleep. Not gonna try to guard you when you can’t even stand awake.” Gladio presses kisses from his King’s forehead down to his chin as he speaks, over where his skin twists into something akin to burn wounds.  
This is no holy offering, because Noctis remains no god, and Gladio would never kneel to an altar of him. But his sword raises only for him, and it feels like it matters just as much.  
“I can handle myself. Been doin’ it for awhile now.” Noctis whispers back, leans into his Shield’s hand.  
“Yeah, remember when we were all hauling your ass through Insomnia? Cindy too, sometimes. Cor, on occasion. Hardly call that on your own.”  
When the door opens, they both know the specific _ting!_ Of Ignis’ cane hitting the door guard. Noctis curls away from Gladio’s grasp, looks to Ignis in such terrible love. It only worsens when Prompto reveals himself behind him. Gladio groans, shoves Noctis by the chest back into bed.  
“Either of you comin’ in isn’t gonna make him go to sleep.”  
Ignis smiles. “You talk as if you’ve never sufficiently tired him out.”  
“Wasn’t exactly my first thought.” Gladio says, though he’s joked about going that route three times now. Noctis doesn’t say so.  
Prompto jumps upon the King’s bed with all the enthusiasm of Christmas Day. Exhaustion have it, he will tackle his King back into a mattress, and he won’t knock into Ignis as he does so. One of these things is true, though Gladio catches Ignis’ arm quick.  
“I don’t need to sleep. I gotta - “ Noctis starts, and then remembers he never bothers to remember his royal day-to-day schedule. Who has the time, really? “I got something to do.”  
Ignis makes a seat out of Gladio’s left thigh, shaking his head.  
“You have plenty to do, make no mistake. But you can’t do any of it if you’re exhausted, Your Majesty. At least not very well.”  
Noctis scowls. “I don’t want to make you do all the work for me.”  
The other three all laugh together.  
Noctis throws a pillow at Prompto, which sends him promptly flat against the massive royal mattress. Suddenly he resents Gladio for letting Ignis sit in his lap, lest Ignis make a human shield out of himself.  
“I’m serious. Things aren’t the same anymore. You guys can all rest.”  
Ah, so it’s that far.  
The Royal Adviser removes himself from the Royal Shield’s lap in all the professionalism one can manage in that situation. Then he reaches for his King’s hand, and sits beside him. Noctis shakes in his grasp, not only because Prompto has now put all his weight into leaning on his back.  
“I’d be rather useless if I never took on anything for you here.” Ignis tells him, and smiles.  
Noctis considers his state for a long time. The burnt part of his face remains numb - feels ghostly, if nothing else. Prompto asked him about it once and he could only best describe it as a limb falling asleep. He doesn’t have so much time to think about it as Prompto climbs atop him, straddles his hips until he listens. Almost in sync, Ignis is laying beside him, head close enough to him that Noctis smells his conditioner. Stupid, overly expensive conditioner that he can’t stand.  
“Kiss me.” Ignis says, as simple as anything, and his eyes fall shut.  
Prompto is not as hesitant as they used to be. He keeps his legs straddling Noct’s, but leans towards to take Ignis’ face in his own and kiss him hard.  
“Prompto.” Ignis argues, though he’s smiling terribly. “You’re rather defeating the point.”  
Prompto matches his smile, but pulls away from him and Noctis all the same. When Gladio appears in his place he sets his hand down on Ignis’ chest. It doesn’t matter, really - they know each other down to their bone marrow. They’ve played at this for years - it is more of an excuse, than anything. Gladio presses too much weight into Ignis’ chest and pulls him forward against him, kisses upon kisses on his cheeks.  
“You’re an idiot, Gladio.” Noctis says, pulling at Gladio’s shoulder. But he hasn’t smiled like this in a long time.  
“Have you lost your taste for the gimmick, Gladio?” Ignis asks, and reaches out for Noctis.  
Noctis turns silently towards his adviser and kisses him straight. Ignis, a cornerstone, every grounding thing in a person. Before long Gladio is kissing him too, hands on Noctis’ shoulder while Prompto focuses his attention on his hair. A beautiful, overwhelming thing, the three of them all over him. They pile atop one another, trading affections. They stay like that for hours, never leaving the King’s bed.


End file.
